


Smile, It's Your Birthday (So Leave the Brooding to Derek)

by ladyknightanka



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Birthday Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightanka/pseuds/ladyknightanka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Isaac's first birthday with the McCalls and he has just one wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile, It's Your Birthday (So Leave the Brooding to Derek)

-

Smile, It's Your Birthday (So Leave the Brooding to Derek)

-

“So,” Stiles says, a dollop of stolen frosting on his finger, “no Derek, then?”

Melissa glares at him, arms crossed over the scrubs she hasn’t yet removed, but it’s Scott, smile crooked and rueful, who confirms, “No Derek.”

Isaac flicks his gaze between the three of them. He smiles, too, a little hesitantly. “It’s okay. This isn’t really Derek’s scene, is it?”

“You can say that again.” Stiles snorts. “He’s probably huddled under a stairwell right this minute, in fetal position, brooding to himself about how he’ll get _you_ killed next time.”

“Stiles!” exclaims Melissa.

Isaac, however, laughs. He can imagine it all too easily. It’s just the sort of thing Derek _would_ do, and the worst thing is, he can brood all he likes, night and day, brood every minute till Isaac’s next birthday even, but Erica and Boyd won’t come back.

Well. Okay. _Maybe_ they will, someday. This is Beacon Hills, after all, and stranger things have happened. But most likely not, because those stranger things typically happen for the sole purpose of making Derek brood. Case in point: Peter, who hadn’t been invited tonight, thankfully.

Still, because it’s causing Isaac to brood a bit himself, he extends a hand to shove Stiles, who stumbles back against the kitchen counter with an affronted “Oomph.”

Isaac’s smile becomes beatific. “Maybe _you’ll_ be next,” he tells Stiles, in a cheery singsong.

“W-why don’t you blow out the candles, honey?” Melissa chimes in hurriedly.

Scott’s responding frown, the disappointed quirk of his usually happy mouth, makes Isaac slink into his chair like a scolded puppy, but Stiles is rubbing his tailbone, grumbling and glowering, so it’s partially worth it.

Besides, it’s his birthday. Scott can’t stay mad forever. Soon, he and the others grow distracted by dishes and lighters and knives, though Stiles, to all of their best interests and Isaac’s secret amusement, remains precariously out of his reach.

Once the flurry of activity dies down, Isaac finds himself inspecting a round white cake, his name written across it in the blood red of their team jersey, between a circle of candles. It’s perfect, save for the finger-shaped indent on one side, and he sort of wants to look at it forever. It’s been years since he’s seen something like it or had a night like this.

But even without his werewolf senses, he could have heard Stiles’ impatient fidgeting, and worse, he just _knows_ the McCalls’ – _Scott’s_ – pity will be palpable if he lets this shake him, so he huffs and puffs and blows the flickering flames out. It’s easier to cut the cake, after. He grins at Stiles all the while, a Big Bad Wolf kind of grin, and knowing he means nothing by it, Scott humors him.

They eat in silence once the deed is done, the boys devouring multiple slices, Melissa picking primly at one, but eventually, they’re sated enough to speak, and with icing sweetening his lips, Scott asks, “So, what did you wish for?”

“If he tells you that, it won’t come true,” says Melissa, but she’s smiling.

Her eyes, the same heady brown as Scott’s, paint across Isaac’s face. He feels himself flush and skitter his own away. Sniggering at the sight, Stiles puckers his lips and mimes a few obnoxious kisses. “I think he wants a nice, big _smooch_ , Scott.”

“Stiles!” Melissa says again. “Stop teasing him on his birthday.”

“I will kill you myself,” adds Isaac, in what he hopes is a casual tone of voice, despite the rapid, guilty tattoo of his heart.

Scott stares at him, a furrow between his brows. “Listen to my mom,” he tells Stiles, who pouts but consents, and stays half the night with them, playing video games, long after Melissa’s gone to bed.

No one – not even Stiles – is completely unbearable if they're covering for you in _Call of Duty_ , and yet, it’s a relief when he sits up, yawns, and says, “Gotta get home to make sure Dad got in all right. G’night, losers.”

Scott smiles his warm parting smile – the smile that had made Isaac feel, even when they were enemies, as if Scott would genuinely miss him if he disappeared, and would be the only one to feel that way, and would search till they were reunited – and then the two of them are alone.

“We should sleep,” says Isaac, a little awkwardly. “School tomorrow.”

Scott assents with a nod, and the solid presence of him, the heat his body radiates, tracks Isaac up the stairs, impossible to ignore. In Scott’s room, in an instant, Isaac finds that presence pushing him up against the door, just rough enough to surprise, not injure.

Scott’s charming smile shifts into one that exudes confidence, an _alpha_ smile. Before Isaac can react beyond baring the slightest sliver of his throat, Scott stands on his tiptoes and presses that smile – charm, confidence, and all – against his shock-parted lips.

“Happy birthday,” Scott murmurs into them, fingers bunched in Isaac’s Henley, hot above his beating heart. Isaac gawps for a moment, taken aback, before dipping his head down to kiss Scott a second time.

It _is_ his birthday, after all, and it’d be rude to reject Scott’s gift.

 

-

(The End)

-

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing, all of a sudden. It's short and sweet, but hopefully enjoyable, especially after all the angst in canon.


End file.
